


Just Before Drowning

by Lonewritersclub



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, Batjokes, Emotional, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shot, Revelations, The cowl comes off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: There's a half a million dollar chandelier above them hanging from an ornamental ceiling and Joker's naked in his lap.





	Just Before Drowning

There's a half a million dollar chandelier above them hanging from an ornamental ceiling and Joker's naked in his lap.

Bruce is gripping small bony wrists in his hands, holding them down firmly as Joker himself tries to calm himself down. His chest is heaving up and down fast. He's taking in only small intakes of air, he won't get enough oxygen to flow into his veins like this.

Bruce unclips the thick, black cloak on his back and swiftly wraps it around Joker's shaking shoulders, flaring through the air before sheltering him with Bruce's gentle hands. A possessive glint embodies Bruce's eyes for a moment as he watches his dark cloak encompassing the pale body in his arms and he can't help but feel it down to his bones as well. Even though it was only for Joker's warmth, Bruce feels the temperature rising, too. He manages not to smile still - a persistent frown always on hand.

Joker shivers underneath his palms, breathing picking up even more for a second from the gesture, but then calming down just a bit after seeing that Bruce hasn't moved away. 

Joker has tucked his face into Bruce's shoulder and Bruce whispers into his ear low and soft. Bruce tells him that he needs to breathe slower, that he is safe, that he doesn't need to be afraid.

Not that Joker could ever be afraid. At least not in a way he would let it be seen. But Bruce wouldn't mind even if he did. If he's honest, Bruce gets scared sometimes, too.

However, if the Joker were to allow himself to be frightened sententiously, it couldn't be around any other than the Batman himself, for sure and here they are - the two of them alone.

Bruce wonders as he listens to Joker's quick and wavering breathing. The thrumming of the rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows, that follow the whole of the expensive abandoned apartment, fills the rest of the empty space and silence around them until the presence of themselves becomes heightened to the brim. The natural sounds enclose them in each other's arms. 

Barely any light comes through to shed them clearer vision neither from the crystal chandelier nor the Gotham night but that might be for the best. Bruce isn't so sure if he can handle clarity at the moment any more than the clown can. 

The broken glass on the floor next to them glimmers in the stray strokes of light. Blood mixes in with red wine. There's a gash on Joker's left side, bleeding only slightly now. Bruce wishes he could patch it up. Make things all better again. Correct his wrongs. 

Right now, however, he can only hope for Joker to calm down. It won't take much longer now anyways. 

" _Joker_...", Bruce says after the man in his lap has stopped gasping for air and instead breathes in and out quietly.

Joker purrs against Kevlar and shakes his head leisurely next to Bruce's neck, green hair sweeping over Bruce's jaw. His forehead weighs on Bruce's powerful shoulder freely without a care and Bruce decides to gently let go of his wrists. Slowly they wander upwards on Bruce's arms until they come to rest around his neck languidly. Tattoos embellish the pale arms like the rest of his still slightly trembling body. _Bats_ being a central theme. Every one of the slight limbs embrace Bruce as his own beaten tired arms come to rest around the clown's narrow waist. Bruce presses on the wound on Joker's side through the cloak to halt the bleeding. 

"I think it's time", he finishes quietly when Joker seems to be more aware of his surroundings again and might actually be listening to him.

That announcement shakes him up though. Joker practically jumps up from his lap but Bruce has him held down by the hips and quickly goes to grab a tight but gentle hold of his jaw and neck to set him face to face with him.

"Hey", softly, "calm down", Bruce has to tell him again as stark green eyes stare back at him in terror and disdain. "No", the clown tells him back vehemently, a sullen look on his face.

Bruce's eyes are apologetic as they gaze at Joker, trying to hold him together while knowing he's going to break him in the next second.

"This needed to be done sooner or later, one way or another", Bruce tries to explain to him although he knows he will never accept it.

Nevertheless, he lets go of Joker's jaw gently and goes to tuck his fingers under the infamous black cowl to remove it - an unheard action. Joker's hands immediately go to press over Bruce's cheekbones to keep it in its proper place. He's shaking his head harshly now, green eyes filling with a glassier substance and the tiniest ever-present smile falling off his face completely. "No...", his voice shakes but he's ever so determined.

Bruce's frown deepens with sorrow but he doesn't stop. He pushes on the spots that detach the cowl from the suit and just like that it comes off with a small, choked click. When noticing he cannot stop Bruce, Joker tucks his face back into the crook in Bruce's shoulders, shutting his eyes tightly, arm stightly wrapping around Bruce's neck.

Bruce lifts the cowl off resolutely and it's set down on the marble floor with a minuscule clink that seems to echo in the empty space for much too long.

Joker chokes down a sob he hopes to hide and Bruce feels awful but designated all the same. Bruce brushes his hand over green hair. Joker tries to resist his efforts of comforting.

"Jay...", he whispers to him tenderly and moves his arms around the slight body feeling terribly feckless and ungainly as he tries to get Joker to look at him.

Joker loosens his hold around his neck just a little bit but ultimately hangs his green head between his arms, still not wanting to face the reality however at the same time not being able to resist the Batman's beckoning voice.

Bruce waits in no hurry despite inwardly being impatient and worried nonetheless.

The Joker doesn't want to know.

But he _needs_ to.

Joker takes his time but that's the least Bruce can give to him. He still has his eyes closed when he finally lifts up his head. And Bruce waits quietly, compassionately watching him, the way the red, slightly bloody lips twist, showing polished metal beneath which finishes off broken teeth from to the day Batman had gone too far. Bruce doesn't really know how to feel about it whenever he notices it. What happens most often, is a lump that forms in his throat he cannot quite swallow down for the next five minutes, hours or days. It all depends on the result of the night. Each time he just has to make desperate promises to himself to be more careful and not get too angry - _he doesn't know what he's doing_.

So he watches as messy green strands fall from their appointed place on the top of Joker's head to frame his thin face instead. They're beginning to curl slightly from the damp air and soften the otherwise so very strikingly sharp features. Bruce strokes a careful hand through them, tucking them behind an ear where they won't stay for long. Bruce would like to ease him but he doesn't know how.

When it becomes too much, it's too much. "Open your eyes", Bruce tells him softly. In the end when Joker does, Bruce unexpectedly finds all the tension, that had strained his muscles and bones all these years, leaving as soon as desperate green eyes focus on him and upon his bare face. Bruce feels like he's finally _enough._  

Joker doesn't breathe for a full minute and Bruce wants to remind him to do so but somehow he feels compelled to stay silent and let Joker take his time now that there's not much else he can do anyway.

The wild eyes hold so much emotion that Bruce isn't able to say what is the most dominating emotion out of them he should recognize as his answer. He seeks to know what he's thinking but the clown won't say a word.

Joker simply inspects him with a gently drowning, surprisingly vulnerable look on his face, a little frown formed between his brows from high concentration, and Bruce cannot make himself say anything to that. But he's not suffocating from not knowing actually. For once. He doesn't even feel anticipation, just a strange, morbid relief the way people, who drown, feel ecstasy in their last moments just before dying.

Bruce has known Joker for quite some time now. Many years that hold much more meaning to them than double the years could hold to a regular person. He feels like he knows the Joker better than he has ever known anyone else in his life even though he and Joker have never talked or touched each other like other people do when knowing someone. Bruce has done those things with normal people who walk the streets without blood on their hands or gunpowder on their shoulders, but still he has never got to know them as he does know this man, again, trembling in his lap. He's dangerous, overwhelming and the most constant thing in Bruce's whole life which he now knows he needs more than anything else.

But he feels like there had always been something missing all the same.

Everybody craves to be understood. To be seen and to be heard and to be comprehended regardless of acceptance. And Bruce doesn't need _acceptance_ \- he just needs Joker to see him fully. To see what he's made out of even if he already did know deep inside himself. He just needs Joker to be sure of it, to _admit_ Bruce as the way he is. In every way. He needs Joker to see and understand him without nothing hiding them from each other. With nothing hidden, sinking into the dark cold of an ocean.

He needs Joker to validate him by seeing all of what he is. 

Joker still won't say anything but that's alright. Bruce already breathes easier.

Then it's only one more second into the endless silence before Joker finally reacts. He brings a finger to his lips and wipes some of the blood red on the tip of it, though his expression still absent from complete affirmation which causes something small, broken and nearly forgotten rattle inside Bruce. But then Joker proceeds and brings the his finger laced with blood to Bruce's mouth and painting it in red, clearly not trying to stay inside the lines.

Joker studies Bruce and his creation for a long moment with that same far-gone look on his face. Then he lets himself to be seen in return; the depths of his green eyes open so that Bruce can finally dive in.

And he does and Bruce wouldn't mind even drowning in them. At times he feels like he already might have. 

Joker presses that red mouth of his against Bruce's own - soft but demanding lips parting, cool, warm air passing through - and Bruce's arms wound solidly around the pale form again. And in spite of whatever Bruce might have needed from him, he realizes that Joker nevertheless accepts him, too.

Still, most importantly, Joker understands him. But he always has, hasn't he, though?

Then his green, fucked up head is placed back on Bruce's shoulder and the clown is whispering " _Bats bats bats..."_ into his ear, tickling him slightly with his warm breath. Bruce holds him a bit tighter. He can't help but agree with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that lil' thingy there. Comments are gold.
> 
> EDIT (6.1.18): Man, there were some nasty mistakes in there, it should be a bit better now.


End file.
